


Viola Organista

by Zella11



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Business, Dark, Deception, Emotional Manipulation, Evil Corporations, F/M, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Kidnapping, Love, M/M, Mathematics, Murder, Painful Sex, Physics, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Rough Sex, Science Fiction, Time Travel, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zella11/pseuds/Zella11
Summary: Eve, Desdemona and Kensington are three souls trapped in a world where time is the ultimate determinant. Will they be able to come to terms with the horrid events of their past before it's too late? Will their stories collide in a way that brings them peace or inevitable self destruction?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Preface

**EVE**

Do you ever feel that heavy sequestering sense of impending doom? A stifling pressure that threatens to embrace you in its sphere of anoxic turmoil? As if the path towards success and happiness is always _just_ out of reach. Eve had felt it several times this past year…and she felt it now, creeping down her spine like a scaly dermatitis, spreading along her back before dispersing outwards to infect the adjacent epithelial layers in its path of extirpation. 

Eve stood taut against the cool marble column and blinked slowly reveling in the feeling of the chilly coolness against her sweaty back. Fatigue was beginning to creep into the corners of her consciousness and her empty stomach began to groan in response to its prolonged state of desideratum, but she had ventured too far to succumb to jer own intrusive internal physiological demands. 

The Count was near. The dulcet lilt of his voice echoed through the convoluted halls of the mansion and Eve shivered involuntarily at the sound as goosebumps spread across her arms and legs. Her heart rate increased and she could feel the rush of blood surge to her face as her feelings of hunger and fatigue dissipated. The response was immediate and instinctive, her fight or flight response initiated at the mere proximity of his presence.

“Eve!”

Her ears were deaf to the soft urgent tone that beckoned to her from behind. There was too little time. She couldn’t turn back now.

Another voice echoed through the hallway and her fists clenched as she recognized it as well. It was more of a drawl really, a tone laced with cunningness and deceit. Or maybe it was just her hindsight bias --something she only picked up now that she knew what he was capable of. That _motherfucker._

“Eve, please. Would you _please_ listen to me?”

She placed her foot forward on the cold granite flooring, the slim iridescent lights of the dining area casting a bright aura against the slim elevated platform. 

Sometimes you have to trust your gut. After all it is what allowed our ancestors to thrive during the dark ages…well before Christ took his first steps on Earth. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desdemona finds herself in a situation that can make or break her. Eve taunts the Count which may prove to be more fatal than she first thought.

**DESDEMONA**

“Can you come a little closer dear?”

Desdemona Moreau shuffled closer in line keeping her eyes glued to the other people standing in line.

“How would you like to pay?” 

Desdemona glanced sideways waiting for the signal. She didn’t particularly enjoy stealing but together, her and Lo were just so damn good at it, it would be silly not to put their skills to use. 

“Cash,” she said with a sweet smile. The cashier glanced at her and paused with a warm smile. “Such a young thing you are,” she said. “Are your parents nearby?” 

There was a faint lilt in her voice that signaled to the girl that the woman still retained a sense of trepidation towards her. 

“Of course,” Desdemona chirped. “They work at the police station.” 

This seemed to placate her slightly and she nodded. It always worked. A simple mention of some sort of authoritarian order and people immediately shifted be it with their posture, eyes, or expression. This woman was no different. She eyed the bleach, disinfectant and sterile gloves once more but dropped her eyes when she glanced at the girl again. Desdemona handed her the cash and waited for the right moment. She opened her register and before she could insert the cash, the books within the first aisle had tumbled sending trinkets and tools from the adjacent aisle crashing to the ground. The woman jerked in surprise prompting other customers to gasp and recoil at the disturbance. 

“Heavens,” she gasped. As quick as a wink Desdemona slid her merchandise into the bag and swiped the cash from the womans fingers before she could insert it into the register. 

“Thanks again,” the girl called out as the woman looked in surprise to Desdemona exiting the store. She gave the young girl a brief smile before slamming the register closed and running toward the commotion. Desdemona walked slowly down the street content with her performance and looped around the corner where _High Tea Boulangerie_ was. 

Piece. Of. Cake.

He was standing there with his back against the wall and a slip of paper between his lips a look of satisfaction on his face. He had a loose white shirt tucked into slim fitting black slacks with his hands lazily resting in his pockets. He didn’t look older than twenty one, the remnants of youth still present on the sharp angles of his face. He had one of those faces, the one that made people stop and stare a little longer when passing by or the kind that made other people feel warm inside and more inclined to acquiesce to one’s demands. Perhaps it was his delicately curled auburn hair, the full lips and the big innocent eyes that were framed by thick lashes. And that colour that was so discernible… as blue as the icy shores of the arctic waters.

His presence radiated dominance which was reflected in his statuesque height, but his soft youthful features endowed a layer of charm to his otherwise authoritarian aura making him maintain a fine balance between approachability and dominance. He knew how to make his presence known, Lorenzo Santoni. 

“Ah Desdemona you’re back.” 

“You owe me Lo,” the girl retorted. She rolled her eyes as he took the heavy merchandise from her arm and slung it around his shoulder with ease washing the girl with his scent. The odour that surrounded her was different from the woodsy, homey, traditional scent that normally accompanied him. This new scent smelled…expensive. 

“Is that cologne I smell?” Desdemona asked cheekily giving the older boy a nudge with her shoulder. He was so much taller than her she ended up nudging his midriff more than his actual shoulder. He chuckled lowly. 

Cologne was a muted aggrandization of wealth and class and in the girls opinion an utter and complete waste of money. She shouldn’t care what he decided to do with his money but she still couldn’t help the sarcasm that infiltrated her voice. 

“Your tone sounds awfully judgmental,” he added with a sly smile. Desdemona waved him off as they continued down the narrow road.

“You know how I feel about useless rich people things,” she grumbled. He opened the bag and took a brief look inside before placing it gently inside another larger brown bag he had brought with him. Lorenzo never told her what he did with the stuff she collected for him and the girl never asked. It was safer that way…a mutual inferred arrangement. Although her curiosity peaked each time they arranged a heist together, something deep down prevented her from asking. 

As they both made their way down the alley that had gradually become their signature designated post-crime meetup spot Desdemona noticed more commotion further down the road. She tensed as she spotted a police car turning back up the road in the direction she had just come from with its speakers blaring. 

“Lo, it’s heading back down the street,” she said nervously. Her palms had begun to sweat and her stomach churned as she contemplated getting caught. Lorenzo glanced casually behind them -- an easy going smile on his pleasant face. 

“We’ve never been caught before, what makes you think we’ll get caught now?” he asked turning his placid gaze to hers. He looked completely at ease with his hands casually in his pockets and his brown bag loosely atop his shoulder. The girl sighed as they left the commotion behind them and rounded around to the next street corner before coming to an abrupt stop. 

“Here,” he said shuffling through his bag and handing her a thick envelope. It was certainly heavier than expected, a lot more than the labour that was expected from this job. 

“What are you doing?” Desdemona asked startled. “This is way more than I did,” she exclaimed in surprise. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you going to return it then?” Lorenzo asked, his tone questioning. She didn’t quite know what he expected from her in return. This was completely out of the norm and it unsettled her deeply.

She scowled as she slipped the envelope into her sweatshirt pocket. Lorenzo’s grandparents owned the bakery and he worked there everyday, including weekends. It’s what he attributed his enviable dexterity skills to. The Santoni’s certainly weren’t poor but Lorenzo still felt the need to continue these heists for some reason. Desdemona, on the other hand needed the money desperately and as much as she downplayed it she had a feeling Lorenzo knew. 

“Frowns aren’t becoming on a pretty face like yours,” he said giving her cheek a playful caress. His fingers were soft yet firm due to years of kneading dough and shaping batter. She closed her eyes briefly at the feather-soft touch, then suddenly snapped her eyes open. She blushed as he turned away, sauntering past the commotion further down the street like any common pedestrian.

“Desdemona!”

Another voice filtered down the alley, the youthful tone permeating through the twists and turns of the cramped sidestreets.

The girl sighed in exasperation at the familiar voice.

He appeared around the corner, his blond hair plastered to his forehead and his hazel eyes straining against the hot sun.

“What now?” she asked annoyedly. 

I knew that voice. There was no mistaking that husky tone for anyone other than Phineas Calandrini. 

“You forgot your envelope at work,” he said flatly tossing the girl a thick slab of heavy parchment.

Desdemona tensed as she caught the heavy package in her hands.

“Thanks,” she said rather dryly shoving the envelope into her loose sweatshirt.

He hesitated as he watched her. She knew what he wanted to say. She could sense it in his movements. However, she wasn’t in the mood to be sermoned and certainly not by Finny. 

“He’s got you doing this stuff again,” Finny said quietly crossing his arms.

“Fuck off Finn,” she managed trudging down the street. She ignored the commotion as well as the footsteps that followed behind her as Finny matched her pace. 

“I’m just looking out for you Desdemona,” he said unabashedly. The girl frowned at him as he walked beside her. 

Phineas had that face. That cute boyish look that made girls giggle and men laugh. A baby face. It made her blood boil that he dare order her around when he himself needed so much more time to mature, if not emotionally then certainly physically.

“Go back to your playpen Finn,” she retorted. She resisted sticking her tongue out at him. She figured it would be the equivalent of her dropping to his level. And she was _not_ on his level.

He frowned his jaw stiffening. 

She left him behind her –absolutely fuming as she turned the corner towards home.

“Don’t come running back to me when he leaves you in a jail cell next time!” Finn called out as she paced down her street.

“Poor boy knows nothing about the things we do,” Desdemona muttered pushing back the shithole of a door that was the entrance to her house. 

You really couldn’t call it a house. That would be generous. It was more like an abandoned farm from the 1800s. But it was home. Sure the paint was peeling and the plumbing came and went…but it worked. Desdemona made it work.

She felt the package Lorenzo had given her in her pocket and she smiled. 

“Papa?” She called out slamming the door behind her. She cringed as she heard a plank of wood hit the ground hard. She sighed. She knew who’d have to fix that tomorrow morning.

“Get your ass in here, it’s cold outside.”

She scrambled in tossing the thick wad of cash onto the counter and went immediately towards the bedside table in the backroom. She imagined this place was where the owners from long ago used to keep the food for the animals. It always smelled like burnt oats and rotten corn there.

She passed her father in the living room who had his hands full with Casen, Pax and Penelope.

The baby was asleep in the crib and she sighed checking to make sure her bottle was at least half full.

As the oldest of four and as of 11 months ago five – Desdemona had her hands full taking care of the family.

She knocked once, waiting for the sound of the bell to alert the girl that she could enter. 

She looked worse. God Mama looked so much worse.

“Desdemona?” she whispered between cracked lips.

“I’m here,” she said immediately flitting to her mothers side. “What is it?” she questioned brushing her thin hair back. “Are you not comfortable? Do you need water?”

She brushed off the girls worries with the wave of her hand.”

“No…I’ll be fine. Did you get more formula for the baby?”

“I will now. I…was busy today.”

“In school I hope,” she said with a soft smile.

“Yeah,” Desdemona said feigning a smile. “In school.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

She began to cough and Desdemona quickly scrambled to the water container and poured her a glass. They were running low again. She'd have to somehow fill it on her way home tomorrow.

***

**EVE**

“Where to this evening Count?”

The Count stood tall and elegant in his rich silvery blazer as he observed the machine in front of him. His good for nothing right hand man at his side. Eve didn’t even know his name – she didn’t care enough to. All she knew was that he was a piece of shit.

The Count turned to look at her his mask glinting in the darkness. 

“Valletta, 2018.”

“Don’t!” Eve cried out straining against the metal cuffs around her wrist. Not there. Anywhere but there. Those were _her_ memories. Memories he had no business visiting. 

The Count suddenly seemed interested as her voice echoed down the white narrow hall. It was always so cold here and that was one thing that hadn’t changed.

He walked toward her slowly, his head tilted to the side as if in a gesture of false concern. 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I have to,” he said softly. “If you work with me it can be the way it always was. We can be happy...like a real family."

Eve didn’t have it in her to respond. Not now. All she could manage was a short humourless laugh. She saw the stillness of his stance as he took in her response.

“You don’t share,” she whipped out brushing her short bob away from my face. “You never have. You always wanted everything to yourself.”

He dropped his head for a moment before lifting it promptly. 

“Is that what he told you?” 

The Count’s voice was soft, almost lulling and Eve sunk her teeth into her lower lip. 

He chuckled at her response his black leather gloves brushing past the mask that his face from view. 

_“He’s_ always been such a stick in the mud. Past, present, and future I’m afraid.”

“Don’t talk about him.”

Eve's voice tremored as she responded and she felt sick knowing the Count seemed to revel in her agony. 

She prayed to every God she knew that he had escaped somehow. If he was still here…

The Count straightened up and turned back to his partner. Their voices where too low for the girl to make out what they were saying but she knew whatever they had planned was something truly despicable. 

“Press it.”

The familiar green light filled the room and Eve felt the sensation of watery liquid begin to creep up her bruised ankles and snake its way towards her thighs. She would never get used to it, no matter how many times she experienced the travel from one space to another. The soft familiar music filled her ears, the sound starting out low and fluid before blaring into a crescendo that made her eardrums vibrate with each build in the song.

She closed her eyes tightly and crossed her fingers as tightly as she could. The air whooshed past her ears like winds at high altitudes and she felt her voice disappear into the chasm of blackness as she circled backwards in time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kensington gets the opportunity of a life time. Desdemona struggles with her feelings for her best friend. Eve has a tumultuous encounter with The Count himself.

**KENSINGTON**

Kensington pushed her way through the throngs of people that lined the front entrance of the crowded epicentre. She wasn’t as well dressed as she should have been, but she couldn’t care. Not at this moment anyway.

She had waited for so long. _So long_ for this moment. When she’d finally be able to set foot inside the headquarters of _Volta Corp._ The slick slate grey building stood out like a monstrosity amongst the bustling cobbled streets of downtown. 

Kensington swallowed and tucked her long raven coloured tresses behind her ears. She caught sight of her reflection along the slick stone that lined the enormous waterfall along the grand circular entrance. Everything here was so…futuristic. 

Kensington applied twelve times before to work for the company and had been met with rejection each time. But she didn’t let it stop her. She knew she was good enough. The fact that they refused to even set up an interview made her blood boil. Her application was stellar. She had gone above and beyond to stand out and still…it seemed as if _Volta Corp_ still didn’t find her worthy. Not until now.

She really hadn’t expected it. Her application this thirteenth time hadn’t really been all that different from the multitude of times she had applied before. Perhaps the only thing that really had changed had been her age. She was seventeen now. 

As she walked through the circular entrance and through the chilly marble corridor she was met with a woman at the front desk. The womans beady eyes zeroed in on her and Kensington could see the judgment radiating off of her. Her expensive designer suit was draped perfectly around the lean figure of the blonde receptionist and she gave Kensington a shrewd smile as the girl perched on the edge of the expensive granite countertop. 

“Are you sure this is where you’re supposed to be?”

The woman had a clear condescending tone but Kensington had expected this reception. She was not unfamiliar with the snootiness that came with a corporation like this one.

“Yes,” Kensington said equally as harshly. 

The woman furrowed her brows as she looked at Kensington and the girl stared back unabashedly. Kensington was pretty. Quite pretty and she knew it. She had been able to use her good looks to her advantage for a long time. It was what had gotten her the opportunities she so desperately wanted. 

Her large blue eyes against her olive skin was an unusual combination and her raven hair was long and thick giving her an alluring unique look.

The woman cleared her throat and tightened her lip as she looked at Kensington’s somewhat crumpled skirt and not so well pressed blouse. At least she had remembered her heels.

“If you’re here for H.R it’s in the other building,” she said crisply as she picked up the phone and fluidly began scheduling a meeting with another client.

Kensington waited patiently until the woman was finished then reluctantly met her eyes again.

“I’m here for my internship.”

The woman looked surprised but she composed herself quickly.

“Sorry? You mean the intern position?”

Kensington nodded. 

The woman’s eyes suddenly flickered with interest and she shuffled through the meticulous slick grey folders on her desk till she pulled out a file.

Her dark eyes met Kensington’s as she opened the file and scanned it briefly.

“Name?”

Kensington refrained from rolling her eyes.

“Kensington Katz.”

The woman nodded stiffly and gestured for her to follow down the long illuminated hallway.

Kensington was beginning to wonder why everything around this place seemed to resemble a circle, from the perimeter of the entire building to the arches, to the rounded hallways. It was awfully….confusing. 

As the receptionist led Kensington around the building she tried her best to capture every detail that slipped past her from room to room.

She wondered if she’d get a chance to the see The Count himself. She doubted it, but still…to know he was in this very building now was something exhilarating. 

She breathed in deeply and continued forward passing slate grey wall after wall. 

The woman slowed down and gestured to a clean neat workspace near a floor length glass window. The room was small, but gave the appearance of being much larger due to the tactful ways the furniture was arranged and how the light filtered in through the glass windows. 

“This is the fourth floor Miss Katz. You won’t have a reason to change floors…considering your position.”

Kensington paused. She was suddenly curious.

“I was just wondering,” she began blinking her large blue eyes at the woman in front of her. “Where is it? The time machine?”

The woman began to laugh and Kensington inwardly cringed. She probably got asked this on a daily basis.

“The machine is on the 33rd floor Miss Katz and it is strictly for use by the Count and executives. It is not a toy. It took most of the Count’s life creating that machine.”

Kensington nodded. She knew the story. 

“Plus,” the woman added with an air of haughtiness. “You wouldn’t know where to start working with the damn thing. It’s _very_ complicated. Way past what you’ll be able to understand as an intern.”

Kensington nodded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said a little more snarkily than she should have.

The woman frowned. 

“Well then. Get settled. I’ll send Luca in shortly to brief you.”

Kensington nodded and plopped her self down after the woman left. Although she was rather eager to work here at _Volta Corp._ She did harbour ulterior motives. 

That time machine that sat guarded on the 33rd floor was the only way Kensington could determine who her parents really were. One day she'd be one of those executives with the expertise to use that machine for good. That is what _Volta Corp_ was all about. Using technology to _save_ mankind -- not exploit it. That was the reason there were such stringent laws when it came to the use of the machine. Apart from the highly ethical issues associated with it, there was a multitude of much more detrimental effects that could arise from it. Only the most highly skilled were permitted to use it and for specific purposes entirely. One small mistake in the past could have deleterious effect on the future.

Kensington sighed just thinking about it. _Volta Corp_ unlike other massive corporations put their workers first. They were known for their dedication to not only their clients but also for maintaining a positive and reinforcing work environment. She had heard stories about people who had made requests to find out certain truths about their pasts. This was of course for an exorbitant fee that was beyond what even Kensington's parents could afford. Even then, the circumstances of the request had to be taken into account and monitored in a way that it did not harm any future outcomes. It was highly complex and warranted the high fee for a such a dangerous endeavour. Kensington wondered if, as an employee, she'd be able to lower the fee by a small amount. It was the only way to find out the gaping emptiness that had gnawed at her since she discovered the truth about her existence. Kensington found it odd that there was absolutely no trace of the woman who had given birth to her nor a reason for a motive that a woman would leave an hours old newborn in the middle of a crowded garden. Why not take her to an orphanage? Other family members? It didn't sit well with Kensington. She knew something deeper was at play. She had always felt it. 

Barely a couple hours old, she was left in the middle of a dusty crowded park in Kensington Gardens one morning in mid April. She’d figured this out entirely by accident after seeing her parents on TV. Her parents were Dr. Samuel and Mrs. Sophie Katz. Her father was a renowned surgeon in the city and her mother a fierce and prominent attorney. They were nothing short of political royalty within London. 

She remembered the shock that had pierced her at the tender age of nine one day as she filtered through channel after channel at home when a news reporter suddenly glossed over the tragic history of the Katz's and their adopted daughter.

She’d wished they had just told her. 

It wasn’t particularly hard to figure out…she didn’t look much like them with her raven coloured hair, deeper olive skin tone and deep blue eyes. She looked rather odd to begin with in contrast to her parents who looked so generic. In spite of the secrets and the lies, she did love them. As the years carried on, she began to realize why they thought it better if she didn’t know. Plus, they had given her a privileged life that she was forever grateful for. 

But Kensington still lacked something deep inside of her. Perhaps it was that feeling of not knowing…that feeling of emptiness. Or maybe it was that she needed closure. Whatever it was, she couldn’t let it consume her. If there was a way for her get her answers, she would find a way, regardless of what perils lay in her way. That machine was the only way..she’d ever figure it out.

There was a sharp knock at the door that jerked Kensington from her thoughts.

The man was older and dressed in a very expensive charcoal suit. His black hair was slicked back and his aftershave was strong enough to pick up from Kensington’s perch at the edge of her chair across the small room.

“Good Morning Miss Katz,” he said with a smile. “My name is Luca Pacioli and it would be my great pleasure to offer you the warmest and most sincere welcome to _Volta Corp.”_

Kensington swallowed thickly at the strict formality. 

“Hi,” she said somewhat meekly. He continued.

“As executive director, there is much to manage at a company as large as this, but we take extra care to pay just as much attention to our newest employees, researchers, students, and interns. All of you play an essential role in keeping this prosperous company thriving and we _care._ After all, nothing is more important to us than our future generation.”

Kensington found the introduction rather robotic and quite obviously rehearsed, but that didn’t matter. She was eagerly awaiting his next words. All interns spoke about it. It was the best part of working here. 

“Would you care to take a tour of the building?”

Kensington nodded. She felt a little out of place in her tights, knit skirt and simple blouse. She should have taken her mothers advice and worn the blazer dress with her pumps. However it was too late for that now. 

“Cecilia?”

From around the corner came one of the most beautiful woman Kensington had ever seen. Her thick caramel hair swirled down her shoulders and her berry lipstick was immaculately applied to her full smiling lips. She was statuesque in a crisp white suit paired elegantly with stiletto heels. 

“Miss Katz,” she said in a sultry husky voice. “Looks like it’s just you and I on the tour today. We only take two interns a year unfortunately and the other was chosen last month.”

Kensington found herself smiling as the woman nodded at the man named Luca who swiftly left around the corner.

She checked her watch and Kensington noted it was getting late.

“I’m not sure we’ll be able to get the full tour experience today just based on lack of time,” she murmured glancing at her jewel encrusted _Cartier_ watch that lay elegantly on her snowy wrist.

“That’s okay,” Kensington butted in. “I wouldn’t mind just the tour of the upper levels of this building.”

The woman gave a short laugh.

“You cut to the chase don’t you?” she said with a knowing smile. “I like that.”

Kensington shrugged. She knew what she wanted.

The woman seemed to really look at her and Kensington tucked a strand of her raven coloured hair behind her ear.

“You’re quite young…even for an intern. How old are you if you don’t mind me asking.”

Kensington hesitated. She had lied on her application claiming she was twenty-one but in reality she was just seventeen. But she couldn’t let this stop her. Not when it had taken her so long to reach this point.

“I’ll be twenty- two in September,” she said with a short laugh. 

The woman didn’t respond but nodded politely at Kensington. Soon after the somewhat strained introduction the woman introduced herself as Cecilia Gallerani, project manager at _Volta Corp._ As she delved into the history of the building Kensington kept her eyes glued to the walls and any clues that would reveal anything about the machine that lay on the 33rd floor. 

“The Count cares deeply for his artwork,” Cecilia said fluidly gesturing to the large hallway adorned with expensive artwork and even more abstract sculptures. 

Kensington felt as if she had just left an office building and entered a certain part of the Louvre. The paintings were numerous and incredibly detailed with no specific theme ranging from portraits of woman, men, gardens, food, buildings and locations to just blank canvases with totally abstract depictions. 

“Seems to be a passion,” Kensington added as the woman led her into a modern looking lift.

“Oh it is one of many,” Cecilia said softly as the doors closed in front of them.

Kensington was quiet as they began to rise up towards a higher level.

“Do you know The Count well?”

The Count was a notoriously private man. Many did not know who he was or _where_ he was half of the time. There was not a single interview or photo of him that so far existed to the public. It was almost as if he were an omniscient being, floating over the entire company and observing, but never appearing once, not even for a glimpse.

Cecilia smiled at her.

“Of course. He is not any different from you or I Miss Katz. He just values his privacy fiercely.”

Kensington nodded. She supposed she understood.

“So you know how he looks?”

Cecilia tightened her lip at the question and Kensington could tell she was trying to keep it as professional as possible while still remaining pleasant.

“Yes.”

Kensington tensed when she saw that the woman had pressed the 33rd floor as their first destination.

She felt her blood begin accelerate its flow through her veins and her heart beat began to speed up. This is it. This is what she’s been waiting for.

As the doors opened Kensington hadn’t realised she had been holding her breath and before she could step out of the lift Cecilia stepped in front of her.

“Miss Katz,” she said stiffly the softness that was present in her voice tightening somewhat. “Let me remind you that you are not to touch anything. This is purely a visual tour and the machine that is housed on this floor is incredibly advanced technology. It is for your own safety and the safety of everyone else in this building that you follow all my rules as we navigate through this floor? Do I make myself clear?”

The severity in her tone was warning enough and Kensington nodded. 

“Good,” she said with a smile.

“Then Miss Katz, it would be my pleasure to show you the beauty, the transcendence, the novelty, and the heart of _Volta Corp_ that is our very own _Viola Organista.”_

***

**DESDEMONA**

“What am I even doing here?”

Desdemona groaned as she turned over on the lush green grass. It was the warmest day of the summer so far and as much as Desdemona was trying her best to sit back and take it in, she was restless.

“Shh.”

The quick response made the girl frown but she knew it wasn’t out of rudeness. Lorenzo was just taking in the moment. 

Desdemona wasn’t quite sure how he did it. She couldn’t stay still for that long just…lost in thought. She had to be doing _something._ Lorenzo always teased her that she had some sort of attention deficit disorder. Maybe he was on to something.

“Lo,” she said breaking the silence for the second time in less than a minute. She opened her eyes to watch him.

He was lying down on the grass, his delicate auburn curls swiping his blushed cheeks as his lashes fluttered in the warm breeze. He was so painfully handsome and Desdemona tried her best not to stare. She wondered if he knew it. He never struck her as being particularly interested in the girls at school who whispered and giggled whenever he walked past them. But then again, it was difficult to tell what Lorenzo was thinking in general.

His eyes opened and Desdemona felt her cheeks burn as they flickered to meet hers.

His lip tightened and Desdemona saw him shake his head in false disappointment.

“You are something else _Topolina.”_

Desdemona felt her cheeks burn even more at the name Lorenzo enjoyed teasing her with.

The name had formed after they had done a heist together when they were kids. Desdemona must have been nine and Lorenzo twelve or thirteen. She had managed to hide in a dairy farm after herself and Lorenzo had managed to pilfer a couple hundred bills from a rich farmer who lived out in the country side. It was one of their first heists together. After they had run off in opposite directions as planned following the robbery, Lorenzo had told Desdemona to wait for him by the wheat fields. Instead, Desdemona had fallen asleep with the money on her chest beneath stacks of cheese within one of the compartments of the farm and Lorenzo had to spend hours looking for her afterwards. He had laughed and laughed when he found her asleep with the calfs and covered with bags of money, and using a large spongy stack of aged cheddar as a pillow. The nickname had stuck ever since much to Desdemona’s embarrassment.

He suddenly shifted beside her and Desdemona watched as he brushed his sun kissed auburn hair from his eyes.

“How are your parents?”

Desdemona frowned. She never discussed her personal life with anyone…but Lorenzo was the exception. He understood her situation and he cared. He was the only one able to ask her such questions.

“They’re alright,” she murmured. Although Desdemona was only sixteen she had a huge responsibility. Her family relied on her for almost everything and now with her ill mother…it was not looking so good. “Mum wasn’t feeling too good last night, but I pray she’ll make it through. I hope she’ll be able to see Ainé turn one.”

Desdemona hadn’t realized that her tone had gone rather sullen and she tensed as Lorenzo moved to squeeze her hand. Ainé was her 11 month old baby sister. 

“She’ll make it through.”

Desdemona shot him a weak smile.

Lorenzo knew better than anyone what it was like to lose a family member. He had lost both his parents when he was four after they were brutally murdered in their home. It was a horrifying story that shook the town to its core. Although Lorenzo was there at only four years old when it happened…he claims he doesn’t remember much of it. The only vivid memory he could recall was the screaming from his mother as she was stabbed to death. 

Lorenzo’s parents worked for _Atlanticus Inc._ Piero and Katarina Santoni. They were brilliant researchers who had worked for the corporation for years. It was a devastating loss to society after their deaths had been publicized. Unlike Desdemona however, Lorenzo was incredibly well off with his parents having amassed a great deal of money before their untimely deaths which they had left to their only son. Lorenzo would acquire it once he turned twenty-one which Desdemona realized would only be in a couple months.

He was staring at her hard now, his face inches from hers and in that moment Desdemona felt a sudden strange impulse to be close to Lorenzo. Not just close…intimate. She had been having these thoughts more often-- now more than ever-- and she wondered why she felt this way. She wished it could be as simple as it was before. With him by her side as a companion, a friend and confidant. 

Things were always simpler as children. 

She was pretty sure he still saw her as a little sister and that bothered her more than anything. She didn’t want him to see her as a little _Topolina_ anymore. She was mature now. Although she was still petite, she was a woman. Her breasts had come in and her hips had a more defined curvature to them. The childlike features on her face had transitioned from cute and playful to elegant and sharp. In spite of all those changes, it seemed as if Lorenzo was blind to it all. 

_Or was he?_

Her breathing had increased and she felt her heart quicken as Lorenzo stilled in front of her. 

_Was he waiting? Did he want her to make the first move? Should she?_

Just as Desdemona was about to make up her mind and lean in for the kiss she had been waiting for -- another voice pierced through the air.

 _“There_ you are.”

It took only a second and the moment was gone. Lorenzo had pushed himself up and Desdemona could feel her face heat up with anger.

She knew that voice and she scowled.

“Took you long enough!”

Desdemona watched from the grass as Lorenzo hugged his friend. Phineas gave her a crooked smile as he made eye contact with Desdemona.

“You look lovely Desdemona,” he said with a smile as Lorenzo turned to look at him.

She childishly turned away from him. 

“Just in time to watch the sunset,” Lorenzo said with a grin as he pulled his friend down with them. 

Desdemona felt her fingers sink into the grass as Finn plopped himself directly between herself and Lorenzo. She could kill him.

“I was trying to get Des to get more in touch with her spiritual side.”

Finn laughed and Desdemona felt her blood boil.

He had quite a nerve.

“That’s an impossible endeavour I’m afraid.”

Lorenzo chuckled quietly as they watched the sun set in the horizon.

“Nothing’s impossible. One of these days she’ll get there.”

Desdemona frowned.

“You do know I’m still here right?”

Finn scoffed as Lorenzo laughed.

“Hard to forget your presence D, you make yourself known.”

“Quit with that stupid nickname _Phineas.”_

Finn was her age yet he loved to treat her as if she were so much younger than himself and Lorenzo. It riled her up.

“Little D,” he added just to drive her up the wall.

With a nudge she elbowed him in the gut sending him gasping into the hard ground.

“Quit you two,” Lorenzo muttered as the first remnants of the night filtered into the orange sky.

Desdemona sighed and closed her eyes as Lorenzo had first told her to do. In spite of the annoying Phineas Calindrini beside her…she was content in this moment. She was happy to take it all in.

***

**EVE**

Eve coughed as she hit the ground hard.

The air escaped her lungs in a sudden whoosh of air and she groaned as she was roughly pulled to her feet.

“Did she speak?”

That voice sent a thousand emotions running through her head and she gritted her teeth. 

“No Sir. As stubborn as always.”

The grip the man had on her scalp was enough to send tears running down her cheeks but Eve didn’t make a sound. 

There was an exasperated sigh.

“That’s enough.”

His sharp voice cut through the silence as Eve struggled to see through the thick freezing water that drenched her and sent water into her eyes blurring her vision.

“Leave us.”

There was a moment of silence and then the sharp sound of a door opening and closing.

“I don’t want to do this, but you’re pushing my hand forward Eve. It hurts me to see you like this.”

“Like hell it does.”

Eve responded swiftly and she glared as the Count stared at her, his expression shielded from the mask that concealed his features.

Her jaw flexed as he came forward and brought his cool fingers against her cheek and stroked her damp flesh. 

“So fierce,” he murmured. “Always so fierce.”

The Count had leaned in to brush his lips against her jaw and Eve felt her grip slacken ever so slightly.

“Don’t.”

Her voice was so soft and weak. She knew that he knew her weakness and she loathed him even more for it.

“Your lips say one thing but your body another.”

“I swear to God-“

She choked when she felt long cold fingers slide against her inner thighs.

“Don’t move.”

Eve cried out weakly as she hopelessly acquiesced to him. She didn’t have much choice. He had complete and utter control over her. Eve closed her eyes tightly as she sunk to the floor. She felt her cheeks burn as her shirt was haphazardly pulled up and her bra swiftly unclasped. The Count wasn’t one to waste time, this much she had learned.

When he stripped her from her pants and underwear till she was as bare as the day she was born she felt rather than saw his eyes gaze longingly over her body. 

“Please…don’t.”

Her voice was just a whisper at this point.

All she heard in response was a dark chuckle.

“You don’t sound like you mean it.”

She didn’t have to see his face to know there was a mocking smirk across his features -- hidden from view from the rest of the world. 

She bit her lip hard as cold fingers inched their way up her quivering thighs. He was playing with her a little bit.

It was not the first time Eve had been intimate with someone, but still, the circumstances behind them were so vastly different. She didn’t know why she suddenly remembered her first time at this exact moment. Maybe it’s because his playfulness reminded her of happier times…times when she wanted someone to touch her…to hold her…to take her.

He parted her lower lips and began to teasingly graze his long fingers over her core sending deep shivers of fear and forsaken pleasure through her. It didn’t take him long to slip a long finger into her core and she gasped at the sudden unwelcome intrusion. 

She heard him pant above her and she turned her head away sinking her nails into the palms of her fists. To her horror she felt a rising heated flame spreading through her abdomen at the unwilful penetration and she felt tears prick her eyes. She heard a chuckle as her hips began to grind against the movements of his fingers.

“There there,” he whispered as she moaned helplessly into her shoulder. “Don’t hold it back Eve.”

She cried out as his thumb rubbed soft tantalizing circles around her clit in spite of her motions to get him off of her. He thrust another finger into her hot centre as his pace began to increase and she groaned. 

He had leaned down to nip playfully at her lips and she cried as his cologne assaulted her senses.

Eve knew what was coming next. Even as the room was plunged in darkness she heard the heavy mask he wore over his face plonk down on the ground beside them. No one would see his face. Not even her. 

As Eve struggled to keep herself from giving in to her pleasure she noticed that The Count had paused above her. He seemed to realize that her fight against her pleasure was starting to win out. In seconds he had shifted downward, his soft thick hair brushing her abdomen as he lifted her parted thighs. 

In a strangled cry Eve tried to kick out but he seemed to anticipate this and gripped her ankles hard so it hit the cold granite floor with a crunch that made her gasp in pain.

“Don’t make me tie you up.”

She knew the threat was not a bluff and she immediately stilled. She knew better now. The scars of the last time he had done that were still visible…on her thighs, her ankles and her wrists.

Eve squeezed her eyes tight as The Count brushed his lips against her clit once before sensually licking her core. His tongue was feather- light yet still maintaining so much pressure and the girl whimpered indignantly. With an unfound fervour Eve jerked upward as his mouth attacked her core with a speed and fury she didn’t see coming. His lips and tongue on her made her arch her back against the floor and her lips parted as he brushed his teeth against her clit making her thrust against him. It was arousing, painful and somehow devastatingly pleasurable all at once and Eve was disgusted by the low sensual moan that escaped her lips as the vibrations ran through her from her hips to her toes. 

“God no… _please.”_

It seemed her pleas egged him on even more and his tongue began to search more aggressively through her pink canal. She bucked against him as he explored even deeper, her thighs closing in against his thick wavy locks. To her utter dismay, the two fingers he had used previously plunged within her as his tongue continued its movements sending Eve over a cliff of white hot pleasure. 

She couldn’t stay quiet, not with the way he was toying with her body, like a watchmaker at his gears. Eve screamed out as she climaxed, the darkness offering not even a shred of comfort for her. The intensity sent her on a wave that had her entire body convulsing against the man above her before collapsing with a thud onto the cold granite floor. 

The Count licked her juices greedily as he hummed from somewhere between her thighs. 

“Eve,” he whispered against her wet thighs as she sighed, breathless, shivering, and broken against the floor. “Tell me Eve. _Tell me_ so I can free you from this purgatory.”

It took a while for Eve to react to her surroundings again after such a powerful orgasm but she felt the fear grip her again when she felt his fingers press painfully hard against her hips. He was staring at her in the darkness -- she could feel it. He revelled in the power he had over her and though there was no way for her to see his face she could feel his gaze burning through her. 

“Rot.In _Hell.”_

Eve herself wasn’t sure where the sudden ferocity came from but her voice came out less mangled and much clearer than she had expected. The Counts reacted swiftly and Eve screamed as his fingers closed around her throat.

Eve couldn’t move properly as The Count shifted her body upwards so her legs flopped uselessly to the ground and his grip on her throat only served to tighten. Only when she felt a stiff hardened member against her thigh did she realize there was much more to come.

“N-No,” she yelped. “No. _NO.”_

He eased himself slowly into her at first, unperturbed by her cries and screams. It had been a while…a long while since the last time she had been intimate with someone and she gritted her teeth in pain. Although her walls were slick and ready and pulsating with warmth, his girth and size was so much to accommodate for her tight and unused channel. 

Her pleas and fists against the floor seemed to irritate him and she choked as he seemed to forgo the gentleness from before and proceeded to thrust himself fully into her.

“Hush Eve. You asked for this.”

“Mmphh.”

It was all she could manage to get out as he thrusted in and out of her. 

She could feel her walls stretch to accommodate him in a way that was both arousing and utterly painful. 

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear in a parody of gentleness. 

She felt tears fall down her cheeks as he continued bucking against her as her body became more pliant to his movements. She could do nothing at this point. It was a waste of energy to fight him on this. 

His pace must have softened somewhat but Eve really couldn’t feel much of a difference. Her insides still clenched his length tightly and each breath that escaped her lips was something between a moan and painful exhale. He was quiet above her, not even uttering a single moan as she felt him reach climax on top of her.

He was in control. Always.

It was foolish. So foolish of her to think that she could stop someone as powerful and as cruel as the man above her. 

Eve let her head hit the ground hard, the stench of sweat and sex heavy in the air as she cried pitifully below him. She heard him reach beside them to replace the mask on his face and with a jolt, the lights turned back on immediately blinding the girl. 

Eve was losing consciousness. She wasn’t quite sure where they were but she recognized several voices from within ear shot. 

The sharp tongue of Maltese filled her ears from somewhere beyond the dark cold room and she all but glared at the Count with every last drop of energy she had left. His mask was back on and he was facing away from her -- towards the door they had entered. If he noticed her, he didn’t show it, rather he had proceeded to lift himself off of her and tuck any offending parts from view. 

He brushed a hand through his dark hair which had come loose from his exertion and Eve watched in disgust as he began to re-button his expensive garments. 

“That was just the beginning,” he murmured. “Let me show you what really happens when you break the rules.”

Eve knew how cruel the Count could be. She had seen what he had done in the past but his voice, his demeanour…everything about him now terrified her in a way she never imagined…in a way she never anticipated.

“Get up,” he said coldly taking several strides. “A trip down memory lane may just jog your memory a little bit.” He paused. “For yours and his sake, I do hope it does.”

Eve groaned into the floor after she heard him leave. He had taken her brutally today and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to recover quite so swiftly this time.

The sharp deeper voice of The Count’s second in command could be heard above her and with a yelp Eve was lurched to her feet. 

“Come. _Andiamo._ Let’s go.”

Eve struggled to her feet ignoring the pain between her legs. Before she could glance around her she was being pushed forward.

“It'd be wise to be on your best behaviour today ragazza. For _your_ sake.”

Eve closed her eyes as she felt the door of what she had come to believe was a torture chamber open. The soft breeze hit her as well as the bright sunlight and she whimpered as the familiar scent of bread, dust, and ocean washed over her.

_“Bentornato a Malta.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I caught the writing bug this weekend. Finally decided to put some effort into another story that's been on my mind for a long time. Time travel has always been such a cool idea and I'm so excited to finally put my own spin on it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desdemona aids her best friend in any way she can. Kensington finds herself in a dire situation that may change everything she believes in.

**DESDEMONA**

“What do you think?”

Desdemona perched on the soft antique table inside of Lorenzo’s grandparents Bed & Breakfast and bit her lip as she stared at the drawing in front of her.

Lorenzo was staring at her from the front, his ink stained hands flexing and unflexing as he stood, unsure, in front of the girl.

“D…you’re killing me over here.”

Desdemona opened her mouth once and then closed it. She was utterly bewildered.

“I don’t understand…”

Lorenzo pursed his lips and began to pace. He wasn’t frustrated but Desdemona could tell he was not happy that she couldn’t yet grasp the idea.

“Come on Lo,” she interjected as he turned away from her. She was distracted by the fact that the light filtering in through the window made his hair glow bronze and she found herself smiling at how adorable he looked as he paced. “It’s not important that I understand it. As long as your superiors get it that’s what matters.”

Lorenzo rolled his eyes at her choice of words.

“They’re not _superiors_ Desdemona. They’re colleagues.”

Desdemona shot him a face that he discreetly ignored as he thumbed through the stacks of files on his desk.

_“Lorenzo Raffaele di ser Piero Santoni!”_

Desdemona jumped at the harsh strict tone coming from the kitchen behind the wall Lorenzo had turned into his own personal study space.

She giggled as Lorenzo sheepishly turned to see his grandmother standing in the hallway with her arms crossed.

_“Ora metta in ordine e torni al lavoro!”_

Lorenzo sighed as Desdemona giggled from her spot on the table.

The woman looked at Desdemona and put a palm to her forehead.

“This boy I tell you!” she muttered in a thick Italian accent.

Desdemona loved Lorenzo’s grandmother and old kind Giulia Santoni had become rather fond of the young girl herself. It would have been difficult not to be, Desdemona was at Lorenzo’s place all the time. She liked helping out at the B&B during her free time and it was through her that Desdemona was able to make extra money doing deliveries. She couldn’t always rely on the heists she did with Lorenzo to sustain her. It wasn’t practical.

 _“Ora, Lorenzo,”_ she said with a strict look before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Fine,” Lorenzo muttered pushing the papers back into a low concealed shelf beneath the table.

“Maybe you’d be better off explaining this to Finny,” Desdemona said with a shrug as she swung her legs back and forth on the table.

Lorenzo was shaking his head before she could finish her sentence.

“Finn is already way ahead of me on this.”

Desdemona could tell from his voice that he was not pleased with the fact but he was being truthful.

She opened her mouth to say something but promptly closed it.

She could tell from the way Lorenzo hung his head that the inherent disadvantage between himself and his best friend bothered him. Finny’s parents were the head of _Codex Inc,_ the largest growing research company in the country. It had monopolized quickly over the past decade – even taking over the company that Lorenzo’s parents used to work for before their untimely death. His parents no doubt taught him everything he needed to know when it came to physics and environmental science. They were the largest industrial employers of PhD physicists and their work over the past couple years had been ground-breaking.

Lorenzo wanted to work for them and badly.

Desdemona knew deep down that Lorenzo was smarter than Finny—Lorenzo was just… brilliant. But the advantage that Finny had in the sense of accessibility, evened the ground out fairly quickly and Lorenzo’s lack of exposure put him in a somewhat disadvantageous position.

However in spite of all the flaws with Phineas that Desdemona had, he was kind and she couldn’t deny it. She had no doubt Finny would somehow make sure his parents accepted Lorenzo into their program.

She knew Lorenzo valued his sense of self-worth highly and she had a feeling if he had even an inkling that the Calindrini’s would accept him based on his friendship with their son and not based on academic merit -- he would refuse.

Desdemona watched him now as he put away all his drawings of special relativity, wormholes, and quantum mechanics away. Desdemona had no doubt he had spent most of the day studying his research rather than actually doing the work set out for him at the bakery. The shadows under his eyes proved so.

“Did you get any sleep last night at all?” Desdemona asked sliding off the table as Lorenzo began to grab ingredients from the pantry around the corner.

“Sleep is for the unambitious.”

Desdemona rolled her eyes at his blunt response.

“Sleep is a basic human requirement Lo. Everyone needs it.”

Lorenzo shrugged as he re-appeared carrying a large bag of all-purpose flour in his hands.

“Some more than others,” he added absent-mindedly.

She frowned.

“Are you calling me unambitious Lorenzo Santoni?”

This elicited a laugh and she watched as he placed the flour on the table and sauntered towards her.

“No,” he said curtly giving her nose a tap. She furrowed her brows as she felt the flour from his finger settle lightly on her face. “But I _will_ call you lazy if you don’t start helping me with these ridiculous chores.”

Desdemona blushed at the gesture.

“As much as I enjoy an audience,” he drawled shuffling unenthusiastically towards the pantry, “I would much rather prefer a hand.”

She giggled rushing forward to help him.

“That I can happily lend.”

He grinned at her.

_“Lorenzo!”_

Desdemona laughed out loud as she saw Lorenzo’s face contort into something resembling dread.

“We better hurry or she’ll come back in here with a wooden spoon.”

She snickered and continued helping Lorenzo with his chores. It may not have been the most sought after way to spend a late Friday evening after a full day of school – but Desdemona couldn’t be happier. At Lorenzo’s side she was at her most content.

***

Desdemona frowned as she watched Finny’s sharp hazel eyes glance over the drawings.

“Where’s the proof?”

Lorenzo quickly provided a long list of parchment filled with a series of writings and formulas. It was all foreign to Desdemona and she found herself growing bored as the boys bickered at the solution.

“Not CTC’s,” Finny said with a sigh as he ran a hand through his dark blond hair.

“Oh come one Finn,” Lorenzo said with a nudge. “Look at the mathematical proof! Clearly there’s a way to explain this.”

Finn sighed.

“This is philosophically inadmissible Lo and you know it.”

Lorenzo swore and Desdemona knew he was in his “bubble” during these moments. His mind was laid out in front of him as he shuffled through different pin points like one does a map.

“This is yet another derivation and analysis of geometries only _suggesting_ a CTC may exist. It’s not conclusive enough.”

“CTC?”

Desdemona didn’t mean to ask it out loud but she couldn’t help but voice her thoughts. Lorenzo had already turned around to dwell on his proofs more but Finny made eye contact with her.

“Close timelike curves,” he explained with a frown.

“Are they real?” Desdemona asked. She was feeling a bit left out of the conversation now that the boys had decided to spend all of Saturday mulling over their work.

“No,” Finny said with a frown.

“Yes,” Lorenzo snapped.

“Maybe,” Finny said curtly.

“Potentially,” Lorenzo interjected shooting Finn an irritated look.

 _“Supposedly,”_ Finn said matching his friends scowl.

Lorenzo huffed and turned around --clearly put out with his friends lack of support.

Desdemona raised an eyebrow.

“Wow. Clearly we agree to disagree.”

Finny gave her a half hearted smile.

“What a surprise,” he added rather dryly.

Desdemona felt the smile fade from her lips as she watched them now, crumpling papers – muttering at each other- and Lorenzo constantly brushing his fingers though his auburn hair as Finn reached for his glasses to observe the work more closely.

They all had a purpose and a gift – something Desdemona did not yet have. They all had an _identity._

Lorenzo was a genius – everyone knew it. He was a _prodigy_ as the professors at school had put it. Finny was the kind likeable kid that everyone wanted to be friends with. He had a sense of humour and he downplayed his wealth to the point that many often forgot that he was a boy of immense privilege. He just _drew_ people towards him.

And then there was Desdemona. She was just… Desdemona. She wasn’t particularly athletic and she didn’t have much of a sense of humour. She wasn’t tall or seductive like the girls in her grade and she wasn’t brilliant like Finn or Lorenzo. Although she did well in her studies she was just... _average._ She really didn’t know how Lorenzo and Finn had become such close friends with her. There wasn’t a particular aspect to herself that stood out. She didn’t know what they saw in her that she couldn’t see in herself. It made her feel inferior a lot of the time – though of course that was something she would never share with either of them.

“Think about it Finn,” Lorenzo said suddenly turning to his friend. “The first class of CTC’s are quite apparent. They appear in a very symmetric geometry with ample evidence of strong angular momentum. Look at all the different homogenous universes filled with rotating dust. All of them have CTCs. That is _no_ mere coincidence.”

Finn frowned.

“They can occur spontaneously too Lo. The frequency with which they do is too difficult to predict.”

“But that doesn’t mean there can’t be a pattern. It’s just a matter of _finding_ it.”

Lorenzo had begun to pace again and Desdemona found herself flipping through old drawings that Lorenzo had completed months ago.

Desdemona’s eye had caught something – Lorenzo’s neat but boyish scrawl had covered most of the page but in the centre of the page was a discernible word.

_Permissibility._

She smiled when she saw the name he had given his notes: _The Menagerie of CTCs._

It definitely had a ring to it. Desdemona had thumbed down the page and caught site of a variety of formulas that had been scribbled near the bottom.

_ds^2 = [1-h (x,y,z, t) (2t^2/x^2+t^2)] (-dt^2+dx^2)+h (x,y,z, t) (4xt/x^2+t^2) dxdt+dy^2+dz^2_

_t = E sin(y), x = E cos (y)_

_ds^2 = -E^2dy^2 + dE^2 + dy^2 + dz^2_

“Lo,” she said suddenly breaking his concentration. She looked up making sure she hadn’t interrupted a thought but he had caught her eye. “Didn’t you say before that the metric relies on a top hat function?”

Lorenzo had paused and looked at her.

“Yes…I was explaining that to you last Friday.”

Desdemona nodded.

“I hadn’t understood what you meant back then, but seeing this…what you wrote down…it’s sort of making sense now.”

Lorenzo had quickly shuffled forward and leaned against her to read his own notes. Desdemona shivered at his closeness but ignored the burning in her cheeks. Finny was right on her other side anyway. She didn’t need him to know how she felt about Lorenzo.

“Keep talking D,” Lorenzo murmured.

“Well,” she said suddenly embarrassed. “You had said before that time travel could be done via any wormhole. Remember? So if that’s true what you have drawn here provides a somewhat realistic opportunity to do so...by moving one opening of the wormhole away from the other at a high enough speed and then bringing it back together. Completing the twin paradox.”

Desdemona heard Finn’s intake of breath behind her.

“Holy shit. Then crossing the wormhole one way generates travel _forward_ in time and backward in time the other way.”

“Exactly,” Desdemona muttered.

Lorenzo smiled.

“That means if we can get the wormhole _stable_ enough, we can make it _permissible_ to travel.”

“Whoa there,” Finn said as Lorenzo shot Desdemona the most dazzling smile.

“We’re talking inanimately right? I mean human time travel would lead to deeply paradoxical situations.”

“What? Why not humans?” Desdemona asked excitedly.

 _“No,”_ Finn said somewhat forcefully.

“There is a huge conflict of _free_ will and the unknown. It’s way too dangerous. _Particles_ on the other hand have no free will. It would be much easier to start there.”

Lorenzo seemed extremely thrilled with whatever Desdemona had found and she was suddenly happy she had been paying attention to him the week before.

“Relax Finn,” he said with a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with dreaming big. Desdemona and I are clearly on the same page.”

He gave her a tender smile and Desdemona shyly smiled back. The look on Finn’s face made her smile go stale and she quickly dropped her gaze. She didn’t know why but Finn looked strangely irritated now.

“What about quantum theory?” she asked suddenly as Lorenzo began to re-pin his notes against the back wall of his grandmother’s B&B.

Finn interjected, his frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You don’t necessarily need to understand Quantum Mechanics to get the gist of time travel,” Finn muttered. “It is just simply that some quantum behaviours can be stimulated by wormhole based time travel. Remember, wormholes imply non-locality. It’s an unpopular thing to study based on the abstractness of it all. Researchers like deterministic physics that is ingrained with evidence and explanation. Quantum physics in conjunction with wormholes leave a lot of loose ends – a lot of unanswered questions and a _lot_ of speculation. No one wants to put any investment into something with so much uncertainty.”

Desdemona listened quietly.

“Scientists _like_ definitions. They like conclusivity. Think of an electron,” Finn continued gesturing to another one of Lorenzo’s drawings. “Scientists would describe it as some sort of tangible corpuscle with the capacity to follow a certain trajectory. This is not wrong…but it is quite limited. There’s so much more an electron can do. It is a much more abstract entity that we are only _now_ scratching the surface of.”

“Precisely,” Lorenzo muttered scribbling on more paper. He turned his blue eyes to the young girl who sat alert and wide eyed.

“It may seem hard to grasp at first, but the concept of intangibility making up tangible objects is all _around_ us. Look at the walls, the tables, the phone booth across the street. When we regard these objects – it would be a quantum mechanical scientists worst nightmare. But we have to remember that all of that stuff is composed of all of these intangible elements – protons, electrons, neutrons, etc. It is the crux of special relativity. If you recall _E = mc^2_ and as has been proven multiple times in the past – motion can be transformed into matter.”

Desdemona was somewhat lost again but she nodded her head at Lorenzo’s musings.

“However…” Lorenzo mused tapping his finger against his chin. “I do agree with Finn on one thing.”

Finn let out a large exhale and Desdemona bit her lip.

“We start with inanimate objects.”

Lorenzo’s eyes met Desdemona’s and she blushed at the intensity of his gaze.

“We’re going to need to run some more experiments.”

Finn groaned and Desdemona didn’t miss how Lorenzo frowned at his friends reaction.

“I’m not stealing from my parents again,” Finn muttered slapping a hand to his forehead. “I’m pretty sure they have me on high alert every time I’m at the laboratory.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Lorenzo retorted.

He turned around shuffling through the cupboard adjacent to the pantry.

“D and I already got some materials last week. We may have to stock up again on the metal and copper. But for now we’ll keep it simple.”

Finn frowned. Desdemona knew how highly he disapproved of stealing – no matter what the cause for it was.

“Oh lighten up Finn,” Lorenzo said slapping his hand against Finn’s back. “This is groundbreaking research we’ve got going on here. Think about it. One day we’ll all be working in _Codex Inc_ – Finn as CEO of course – me probably still slaving away on my research and D working for the publishing branch of the company across from us. We’ll go down in history.”

Finn laughed and gave his friend a goofy nudge in the ribs which Lorenzo deftly avoided.

“And we’ll remember how this research started,” Finn added with a laugh pushing his friends various scattered papers into a neat pile. “Planning corner store heists for materials and building wormhole machinery in a bed & breakfast.”

“We all got to start somewhere Finn,” Lorenzo said with a wry smile.

Desdemona watched the two of them for some time, Lorenzo and Finn’s tall frames complimenting each other as they laughed and fiddled around with their machines till the first remnants of the night sky began to creep into the blanket of blue. She revelled in the moments when Lorenzo was lost in his research – happy and carefree and forgetting about the painful memories that plagued him when he thought about his parents. She also enjoyed how well Finny complimented the tall boy’s easy going demeanour with his innocent smile and willingness to contribute in any way he could. Desdemona felt lucky to have her two best friends in the world by her side as she navigated through these uncertain times. It made her forget about her own heavy burdens that awaited her at home. In that moment – she could picture it too. A future away from this dingy bed and breakfast – Lorenzo probably in one of those fancy suits business people tended to wear – Finn probably opting for his normal low key plaid shirt and slacks. And herself – Desdemona.

Would she end up like those females in stiletto heels and slick chignon buns in their hair as they walked the hallways of the glass endowed high rise building? Desdemona smiled at the possibility. Only time would tell.

***

****

**KENSINGTON**

****

****

It was chilly. Extremely chilly in the room and Kensington found herself shivering as she followed the woman down the long dark hallway towards the end of the chilly corridor. The farther they walked, the more Kensington worried she had left the realm of a high tech building and entered into some sort of high security research laboratory. Each door Cecilia led them through (and there were many) required a swipe of a card that she kept in her breast pocket or sometimes even a retinal scan.

When they walked for what seemed like another 20 minutes Cecilia paused outside a rather ornate door equipped with platinum lining and large steel pillars for handles along with a titanium plating on the outer rim. It looked like the entrance to some sort of vault and before Cecilia could proceed to punch in a code, a sharp ring of her cell phone echoed within the spacious glassy room.

Cecilia sighed and whispered, _“I need to take this,”_ before walking a distance away and murmuring into her mobile.

Kensington took her time admiring the exterior of the room. It was certainly like a bank vault and Kensington was entranced by the architecture, interior design, and tasteful touches that had been added to the room. It was well thought out – from the location to the obscurity of the layout. It almost seemed like you knew where you were going – but then at the same time it could make you feel so hopelessly lost at the same time. It was truly fascinating.

Cecilia’s voice had taken on a more sharp tone and Kensington eyed her from the other side of the room.

Cecilia seemed irritated and she kept sighing as she spoke into the phone.

“Bring him up then!”

With a quick glide of her cell back into her pocket she approached Kensington once again, her black _Louboutin’s_ clicking against the dark granite of the floor.

“Something has come up Miss Katz,” she said with a frown. “I suppose I will have to show you the machine another day.”

Kensington couldn’t _believe_ her luck. She tried not to show how disappointed those words made her and she all but averted her gaze and nodded.

All this way-- all this fucking way only to reach the threshold and not be granted access to something she’d dreamed of seeing all her life.

As Cecilia gripped the card that would allow them access back to the main corridor, the metal door slid to the right revealing another person on the other side.

“Beau, oh how convenient.”

Kensington straightened up as she locked eyes with a handsome young man who stood in front of Cecilia.

“Mrs. Gallerani,” the young man said with a nod. “I did not mean to intrude. I’m here for the maintenance check.”

“Oh good,” Cecilia said her eyes shifting between the two of them. “Beau, this here is Kensington. She’s going to be our other intern here at _Volta Corp.”_

Kensington blushed.

Beau was handsome with jet black hair gelled stylishly backwards and a dark smouldering gaze against dewy porcelain skin. He was tall and slim with a suit that was tailored to every edge and crevice of his lean body. He didn’t look much older than her and Kensington suddenly felt incredibly exposed.

“Kensington Katz,” Cecilia said crisply. “Beau Hyeon.”

Beau smiled. It was a kind smile – not the stiff formal fake ones that she had been receiving the moment she stepped foot inside this place.

“Nice to meet you Kensington,” he said fluidly. “It’s an honour to meet the second intern that will be working here. I was chosen 8 months ago.” He had a strong American accent and Kensington found herself smiling back. “Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, I majored in physics and am currently working on my PhD in experimental particle physics at MIT.”

Cecilia had whipped out her phone again. She seemed on edge.

“Well, perhaps Beau can escort you back to the main hall,” Cecilia said somewhat distractedly. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing lots more of eachother in the near future Miss Katz,” she said crisply. “Again I apologize about the somewhat brief tour. There’s never much downtime in this place I’m afraid.”

With a quick fluff of her hair she slid past Beau and hastily made her way down the corridor -- her heels clicking against the floor.

Kensington looked around awkwardly as Beau closed the door behind him and went towards a machine in the corner. It must have had some connection to the humungous vault doors leading to the machine and Kensington hesitated as Beau fiddled with the touchscreen before a hologram appeared above it.

“So what’s your story Kensington Katz?” he asked with a lazy tone as he sifted through graphic after graphic on the holographic touchscreen above the panel.

Kensington grimaced.

“I’m in the department of Physics – Cambridge,” she clarified tucking her raven coloured waves behind her ear. “Special relativity.”

“Huh,” Beau said turning his dark gaze towards her. “Go figure.”

She half smiled.

“PhD? Masters?”

Kensington frowned. She couldn’t tell him that she’d gotten the job by her expert ambiguity in the application. They had assumed her project had been Masters or PhD level. It would have been completely absurd for an Undergrad to even _apply_ in the first place. Yet she had been able to slip through the cracks. She couldn’t tell him the truth – that she was just an undergraduate. She’d probably be escorted back out those doors and barred from ever entering _Volta Corp_ again. At the same time…she didn’t want to lie. She had to be quick witted.

“How do you know I’m not a Masters _transitioning_ into a PhD?” she said airily sauntering over to check out what he was doing.

“I know a good few of those,” he said with a laugh.

“Particle physics hey?” she said with a grin swaying the subject away from herself. “What if I told you my research was wave related physics?”

This got a genuine laugh from Beau and he shook his head as he shut off the machine and took a step back.

“I guess that would mean we could never be friends.” He paused as he looked at her. “Thank goodness you’re not. Though I hear these days that wave-particle duality is quite the field now.”

She nodded.

“Alrighty,” he said with a sharp exhale staring at the door. “Unfortunately, this is the part where I have to kick you out.”

Kensington bit her lip as she eyed the door.

She had a feeling Beau was referring to the restricted access to the machine behind those doors.

“I understand,” she said softly. She pursed her lips – an idea suddenly popping into her head. “But I mean…technically I’m going to get to see this machine eventually. I might as well do it now. That way you don’t have to teach me the basics on that boring simulator they have on the main floor.”

Beau hesitated. His playfulness evaporating almost immediately.

As the new intern, it was usually up to the old intern to teach them the basics and Kensington knew it was the experienced interns _least_ favourite job to do. By having hands on access to the machine rather than going through textbooks and cheap replicas for the basis of understanding the technicality associated with the machine, it would make much more sense for him to just show her…while they were both here.

“I mean…it’s up to you,” she added acting as nonchalant as possible. The faster I pick up on the concepts the better it would look…for both of us.”

Beau seemed conflicted. It really did make the most sense. But at the same time it was a gamble. If something did happen to go wrong – both of them could get into trouble.

“I’m a quick learner too,” she added. “I’ll make your job quick and easy.”

Beau pursed his lips but Kensington could hear the gears grinding in his mind.

“I suppose,” he muttered. “But don’t touch anything and just observe,” he said somewhat more forcefully.

Kensington smiled. Looks like her luck had taken a turn for the better.

“As the second intern you will get a key to this room but this room only. I have the key to _Viola Organista_ only for today and for the sole purpose of a maintenance check. I am to return it to Luca Pacioli immediately following the update.”

Kensington nodded.

“I understand.”

With a severe nod Beau went forward and took out an unusual black and silver card from his blazer pocket. It was different from the gold one Cecilia had used before. This one had real metal on the outline and it was shaped peculiarly – almost rounded on the edges.

Beau inserted the card into a small crevice on the door and then entered a 16 digit code using a small circular metal knob.

With a click that echoed across the room the doors began to slide inwards the silver metal glinting in the dark room as the doors disappeared behind a dark curtain to reveal a compartment with a single cold metal stool on top a large raised platform.

It was not what Kensington was expecting at all and she looked utterly bewildered. It was just a lone metal stool below an aged painting of a woman holding what looked like... an ermine?

Kensington looked over at Beau who appeared unfazed.

“Put this on,” he murmured handing her a mask.

Kensington took it immediately, no questions asked, as they both slid one on and stepped inside.

Kensington felt hot, cold and warm all at once and although there was nothing that seemed out of the ordinary, there was definitely an unnatural eerie feel to the entire place. It put her hair on edge immediately.

“Is that the machine?” she whispered through her mask pointing at the stool. “Is that where you sit to go back in time?”

Beau ignored her for a moment, taking several step forwards till he was hovering under the painting of the woman and the ermine. The lone light above them glinted against his shiny dark hair as he bent over to glance somewhere beneath the painting. His fingers danced along the bottom and Kensington realized he was searching for something. He seemed to have found it and pressed a small button.

Below the painting emerged a panel of buttons and joysticks along with another hologram of several more buttons directly above it. It was incredible.

“We are already inside the machine,” Beau murmured. “Don’t move too much. You’ll disrupt the air particles.”

Kensington was already frozen but she tensed even more at the comment. Perhaps that was the feeling she was experiencing? Old particles mixed with new ones--creeping into her lungs to mingle with the remnants of air that had long since been inhaled and exhaled many times before.

“The minute you step into the room you are within _Viola Organista._ Even if you are unseated on the chair you can still travel as long as you are physically within the doors.”

Beau knew what answer was coming next and he continued before Kensington could open her mouth to ask.

“The purpose of the chair is for the primary traveller. They navigate what time period they want to go back and visit and from there, they can venture forward. Remember, the machine can only travel back in time and as forward as we are currently. It cannot go into a future further than the present. Not yet at least. The Count hopes to find a way to do this by the end of this year.”

Kensington swallowed uneasily.

Kensington caught sight of a bracelet on Beau’s wrist as he fiddled with a joystick on the machine and she looked up at him in surprise.

“Is that a _Codex Inc_ bracelet?”

Beau seemed shocked that she had noticed and he embarrassedly pulled his sleeve down.

“So what if it was?” he muttered averting his gaze.

She couldn’t help but giggle. She knew she had irked him with her sharp eyes.

“I’m not judging,” she said with another chuckle.

“Working at _Codex Inc_ had been my dream job since I was four. You do know _Volta Corp_ would have never existed without _Codex Inc_ right?”

Kensington rolled her eyes.

“I thought that was just a rumour?”

Beau shook his head seriously.

“No way. It’s true. Apparently some paid thief was sent to steal some valuable papers from _Codex Inc_ years ago – long before _Volta Corp_ was even an established company. Had some pretty important formulas and drawings on there. It was the biggest coverup in technological history.”

Kensington frowned.

Currently, _Codex Inc_ was still afloat and the sole rival of _Volta Corp._ Though Kensington anticipated that it wouldn’t be for long. It was only a matter of time before _Volta Corp_ took them over too. Kensington didn’t even know how _Codex Inc_ was still managing to stay in business.

“What has you convinced that this rumour is true?” Kensington asked as Beau stepped back and retrieved a slim pair of tweezers from his blazer pocket.

“My Dad told me,” he said with a shrug. “Said he saw the whole thing happen. He said there were two of them. A thief in black and a woman. Almost killed the employee who had the papers. My father used to work at _Codex Inc.”_

Kensington shuddered.

“He had told me that the woman had tried to stop the man…but then she just let him go. It was the strangest thing.”

Beau paused twisting a button and carefully re-inserting it into the metal platform.

“The story is too particular for him to have made it up or imagined it. That’s how I know it happened.”

Kensington was quiet as Beau took another step back wiping a bout of sweat from his brow.

“There. I think that will do it.”

Kensington’s ears lit up at the comment and she turned to Beau.

“Can we test it out?”

Beau looked sharply at her, his eyes darkening.

“Yes. We’ll have to. But I’ll have to call Luca first.”

“Wait,” Kensington murmured taking a step closer to Beau who watched her movements like a hawk.

“This is the same platform that was released in the _Volta Corp Volumes,”_ she said excitedly eyeing the buttons on the panel. She had studied it extensively – picture after picture – drawing after drawing. She had mulled over original reconstructions of the drawings produced by the Count himself with which he published within his _Volta Corp Volume_ almost ten years ago. She didn’t think he’d keep it so…traditional. But to see it in front of her now…Kensington was at a loss for words.

“You read the entire _Volta Corp Volume?”_ Beau asked in awe.

“Of course,” Kensington murmured, her eyes glued to the panel. She had ogled over it for years. She knew in theory how to function the machine. But she was itching to try it out in real time. To feel the buttons beneath her fingers, to type in a year and go back. To get answers to the questions she had-

“Kensington wait.”

Maybe it was the look on her face that Beau had picked up on. But suddenly he was grasping her arm tightly.

“Don’t.”

Kensington hesitated and took a step back.

“I know,” she said lowly. She looked up at Beau who looked frustrated.

“What’s the problem if you don’t mind me asking?”

Beau sighed.

“I’m trying to seal in the button that will allow for advancement into a perpendicular phase of the travel under a relative pressure –“

“Beau,” she said calmly. “Simpler than that.”

He sighed.

“That button is the –“

“One that’s supposed to return the traveller back into the current year from a past date,” Kensington finished for him, recalling the visuals in her mind from the volumes of books she had studied on the subject.

“Yeah,” Beau finished. “But it’s been faulty since its last usage,” he explained. “Someone got left back in 1885 for a couple weeks during the last travel,” Beau explained with a grimace. “It wasn’t good.”

Kensington cringed.

“May I?”

Beau seemed reluctant. He looked at Kensington carefully for a long moment – almost sizing her up before he took a step back, albeit, slowly.

Kensington stepped up and gingerly took the tweezers from Beau. She leaned down and carefully brushed her fingers against the buttons, feeling every knob, ridge and protrusion that swiped the pads of her flesh. She took in the feeling and breathed deeply.

She manoeuvred the tweezers expertly, her sharp eyes zeroing in on the small spring and carefully twirling the disk till it clicked in place. It was an incredibly precise procedure – more tedious than fitting a piece of thread through a needle. The timing had to match up with the action and Kensington held her breath and exhaled when the button fell into place and shone bright like the others on the mantle.

“Excellent work,” he breathed.

Kensington hadn’t even realized how close to her he’d been and she blushed when she stepped backwards brushing past his shoulder.

Kensington caught sight of a little finger print mechanism on the holographic keyboard that had extended alongside the panel beside the makeshift arm rests near the stool. She knew the fingerprint was probably what allowed for the physical time travel but she still wanted to brush her thumb against it. She also noticed something beneath the stool -- something she hadn’t seen before. She glanced downwards as Beau went to work testing the lighting on the panels. Her throat thickened when she noticed they were hand cuffs.

She was being silly. It must have been a safety feature? Right?

Beau took his time turning on light after light and pressing button after button and Kensington found herself growing bored. As she waited for Beau to finish- Kensington brushed her thumb against the fingerprint allowing the scan to go through. The light flickered up and down her thumb at a quick speed and she expected nothing more from the action. Quite suddenly there was a rumble from the panel and the lights turned blinding and a sudden vacuum began to erupt from around them in a whirl of crushing wind and whooshing air. A soft sound filtered through the air and Kensington recognized the song at once. It was an old traditional song she had heard many times at Operas and events. The famous _Con Te Partirò._ The music was deafening and Kensington screamed as the floor vanished beneath her feet and her entire stomach turned weightless- the only sound pounding through her brain that of air rushing down to her lungs.

***

Kensington hit the ground hard, her palms flattening against clean polished granite. She groaned as dizziness swirled in her mind and she struggled to regain her bearings. Beau was passed out beside her and she scrambled towards him. The music was still playing in the background though much softer than it was when it had first turned on.

_What had she done? God what had she done?_

“Beau?” she whispered pulling off the black face mask from her mouth. “Beau? Beau are you okay? _Shit.”_

He groaned and Kensington sighed in relief.

“Oh my god Beau. What even…I don’t know what happened.”

Beau suddenly blinked and pushed himself to his feet faster than Kensington would have thought and she froze when he clutched her arm in a steel grasp.

“Don’t fucking move.”

His tone was cold and terrifying and Kensington acquiesced at once.

Everything was the same as it had been moments before. The painting was above the stool -- the panel somehow back in the wall -- the cold granite walls around them.

But there was something totally... _off._

“What? What was that?”

Beau seemed stricken and Kensington felt dread pool in her stomach. Had she doomed them all? Her thoughts went to the guy who had gotten himself stuck in 1885 and her heart beat thumped unevenly in her chest.

Beau turned and pressed the button beneath the painting of the woman with the ermine to reveal the panel.

He swore when the empty space next to the letters YEAR appeared.

“Fuck. _Fuck.”_

“What? What is it?”

Kensington couldn’t help the panic that seeped into her voice and she tensed as Beau turned to look at her – her fear mirrored in his own gaze.

“It’s not letting me go forward in time,” he said in frustration. It’s only allowing us to travel _backwards.”_

“What?” Kensington whispered.

“We must have travelled back in time,” he whipped out.

“No…that’s impossible,” Kensington whispered. She stepped forward, ignoring the protests of Beau and looked around the room she had been in only moments ago. She stood still and silent taking in any apparent differences that her sharp eyes could catch. There were fingerprints on the metal now…the polished granite was dull…the lights casting a warm yellow glow instead of the blinding white that it was when Cecilia had turned them on. “If we travelled back in time…the room wouldn’t look like this. It was redone with granite only 8 months ago…this granite is… _aged.”_

Beau made a choked noise in the back of his throat but Kensington ignored him. There was only one way to find out whether her hunch was true.

“Come on,” she muttered clutching her mask in her hand. “Keep this with you.”

Beau was rooted to the spot and Kensington could tell he was downright terrified.

“Kensington,” he whispered. “It could be dangerous. We should stay here and try to find a way to get back.”

“Before we do anything,” she said slowly. “We need to find out what year it is.”

The air was definitely different here…heavier – almost smoky and Kensington coughed.

She didn’t know how the dynamics changed so quickly – but suddenly she was the one calling the shots and Beau was the one submitting.

He shuffled quietly beside her. He slid his mask on and Kensington figured he must have noticed the difference.

She looked at Beau who hesitated once – before reaching into his blazer pocket and bringing out the same keycard he had used only moments before…or how many years ago it was at this point.

Thankfully it worked and Kensington sighed in relief. The corridor looked the same and it was empty. She eyed Beau who was stiffer than ever and grabbed his arm propelling him forward. Her pace was quick and Kensington didn’t slow down.

She pounded the button for the lift, shifting her weight from one foot the other as she waited. Beau said nothing.

They rode the elevator down from the 33rd floor to the main atrium in silence and Kensington cringed at the bleakness around them. Things _seemed_ the same so far yet _felt_ so painstakingly different. It was so difficult to explain. There was almost a dark ominous ambiance-- like a heavy fog around them.

When the doors opened to the main atrium Kensington froze.

Everyone was in masks left right and centre as people in business suits walked to and from the main table.

There were lots of men and all of them were in charcoal grey. It was unnerving and she eyed Beau nervously who looked equally as stunned.

Where were the woman?

She had yet to see one – even behind the receptionist desk --and she cringed as people turned to openly stare at them.

Her death grip on Beau didn’t release and she suddenly felt the primal fear to leave the _Volta Corp_ building as quickly as possible..

She all but sprinted for the exit with Beau in tow – praying to see nature again and not walls of stainless steel, glass, granite or marble.

When they dashed outside into the courtyard Kensington felt a sob rip through her throat.

Before them was a statue surrounded by water that had replaced the beautiful waterfall that had previously been at the centre of the courtyard.

It was a statue of a man and a man only. In his hands was a book. The book had a single phrase on its cover: **ORBIS TERRARUM**

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” Kensington whispered. Around the main headquarters of _Volta Corp_ was a large expanse of uniform concrete buildings and desolate grey skies. Where were the gardens on the other side? Where were the apartment blocks by Hyde Park? In fact, Kensington couldn’t see a single tree in her line of sight nor a single blade of grass...not for miles. The cobbled streets of downtown London had been replaced with slick winding pavement that criss crossed into corridors of grey buildings that stood tall and monotone. It was impossible to tell them apart from eachother.

Kensington whirled around looking at how expansive _Volta Corp_ had become.

What used to be a series of other buildings beside the high rise were now many buildings that were now extensions of _Volta Corp._

Under a sign leading to another building was one word: **PRODUCE**

Kensington whirled around towards the other building on the opposite side of the headquarters they had emerged from and saw another sign leading to another building of _Volta Corp._

**WATER**

She kept turning her head, the blood pounding faster and louder through her head at each word her eyes met

**WOMEN**

**REPRODUCTION**

**ENGINEERING**

**HEALTH**

If Kensington didn’t know any better – she’d assume it was some sort of organized militant based system. Everyone was dressed the same, everyone masked, everyone silent.

She spotted a lone women standing beneath the gate that bared the name of her gender. The emptiness in her eyes was something Kensington had only seen once before. It was a look of defeat. A look that told her that this women had lived and fought. But for what? The shackles around the womans wrists made her tense and Kensington had a horrid feeling she knew what kind of battle this woman had been through.

Beau had gone mute and Kensington nudged him trying to bring him back to reality.

“Beau,” she said nudging him. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Kensington,” he whispered turning to look at her for the first time since they had stepped outside into this new world. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Someone’s watching us.”

Kensington froze turning around to where a line of men in uniform were staring the two of them down. She could feel it now. The dozens of pairs of eyes that were trained on the two of them – the clothes they had worn which had fit in appropriately in this place years ago-- now stood out like a sore thumb.

“Kensington,” Beau said again. He was the one now tugging on her arm and she turned to look at him in fear.

He simply pointed up and Kensington felt her blood drain.

Above the statute where the _Volta Corp_ sign was, lay a digital clock that had replaced the round clock that had been there previously. It was 13:00, only an hour past noon.

Beneath it were numbers. Numbers pertaining to the date. Kensington felt her blood run cold when she read it.

_2060_

“It’s supposed to be 2037,” Beau said worriedly checking his watch. “We’re 23 years ahead.”

Kensington winced.

Had so much changed in the span of 23 years? It couldn’t be. Could it?

“We’ve got to get back to the machine,” Kensington whispered. She noticed the uniformed men around the perimeter of the main building begin to slowly inch closer to them.

The prickly feeling Kensington had felt since the moment they had landed in this place seemed to erupt full force and she had a sudden sense of impending danger. It hit her immediately and without even a signal – she grabbed Beau and began to sprint for the atrium.

The clatter of footsteps behind her was enough of a signal of the imminent danger that awaited them and Kensington screamed as she felt a sharp tug on her arm from behind. Beau propelled her forward, their footsteps meeting cold granite as they aimed for the crowded congregation of men near the middle of the atrium.

“We need to take the stairs,” Beau whipped out pulling Kensington towards the back. At least the general layout hadn’t changed too much in 23 years.

They dashed for the door leading to the staircase and began to sprint. They could hear the shouts ringing from behind them and Kensington didn’t want to think about the fact that they would be sprinting up to the 33rd floor.

Kensington assumed it must have been the adrenaline rushing through her veins that allowed her to complete such a feat so quickly and she all but retched for air as they slammed open the first door that would lead them to _Viola Organista._

Beau was swift, pulling her through door af door before they could fully slide open, clutching the platinum key card in his fingers. He was incredibly agile, his lean figure an advantage in this situation, and she was thankful he was quick as he slid the card through door after door of the high tech facility.

“Beau!” she yelled hearing the voices down the hallway grow gradually louder as boots slapping against granite filled their ears.

“Beau press the button. PRESS IT.”

“I’m fucking trying,” Beau snapped, his fingers trembling as he grasped beneath the painting of the ermine woman with frantic fingers. His fingers were searching for the button that would open the panel.

“Got it,” he hissed twirling the dial towards the appropriate date and slamming his fist on the button that would take them back in time.

Kensington wanted to prepare for it -but she found the feeling of weightlessness take her faster than the blink of an eye as the floor disappeared beneath her and her body floated into a chasm of darkness. The music pounded through her ears – that now almost tangible sound of _Bocelli’s_ rich voice circling through the air as she closed her eyes tight and let the sound guide her back to reality.

_Si lo so che non c’è luce_

_In una stanza quando manca il sole_

_Se non ci sei tu con me, con me_

**CECILIA**

_“Mmmm.”_

Cecilia moaned as long dexterous fingers glided past her slickened walls fishing through the confines of her lacy white thong. 

His face was concealed as it always was, the mask obscuring those features Cecilia yearned to gaze upon. 

She wondered in moments like these what colour they could be?

Brown? Blue? Green? Hazel?

Cecilia’s legs were the consistency of jello as The Count pulsed his gloved fingers through her walls. Her thoughts had been crudely interrupted as his thumb stroked her outer lip sliding upwards against the sensitive flesh to seek her love button. 

She writhed, the feeling of the cold leather within her moist heat sending impulse after impulse through her quivering body. 

Cecilia’s vision clouded over as his fingers slipped deeper within her love cavern. He was quiet, never saying much when he pleasured her. He was a man of few words. Seemed to be a common trait among men of his stature.

Her clit pulsed against his touch, the button throbbing in sync with her fluttering heart. 

The Count threaded his gloved hand through her thick caramel hair, his gloved fingers gliding down against the junction of her neck and shoulder. 

“You like that?” He whispered, his voice like warm dewy honey. 

Cecilia moaned shamelessly, her heels clicking against the wooden table as they dragged against the polished wood. 

The knock on the door startled the woman and she sat up abruptly as The Count paused above her seemingly unfazed. 

She hastily dragged her skirt down and slid down the table attempting to get herself together as The Count glided towards the door, opening it promptly.

“Sir,” Luca said immediately with a bow.

The Count said nothing turning on his heel as Luca shuffled into the room.

“Cecilia,” Luca said with a nod sliding into a chair at the large table.

If he suspected anything, Luca didn’t show it. He was a lot like their boss in that manner. 

Cecilia watched him exchange a look with The Count. To those who had never met him, it may seem strange to be unable to see his face – his expression -- his emotions. That slate grey mask he wore covered his entire face. One could rely only on the emotions in his voice to really decipher how he was feeling. But even then, it was incredibly difficult. He didn’t say much to start with.

“They’re searching again.”

Luca’s voice was blunt, masking the irritation that simmered beneath his tone.

Cecilia sighed.

The Count turned his head towards her. 

She could feel his intense gaze on her from beyond the mask that shielded him from view . The way his head was tilted to the side, almost amusedly. She closed her legs tightly, ignoring the moisture pooling between them.

“They won’t stop searching for the boy. Even after all these years.”

Cecilia scoffed.

“I thought the boy died,” Cecilia murmured twirling a lock of her hair as she turned her gaze away from The Count. “Did he not?”

 _“Please,”_ Luca said with an air of disdain reaching for the cognac glasses in the centre of the table. “It’s all propaganda Cecilia. These vultures will find anyway to undermine the legitimacy of our company.”

“That poor girl,” Cecilia murmured. “Someone should break it to her. He’s never coming back-”

“Now now Cecilia.”

The Count’s dulcet drawl broke through the thin film of tension and Cecilia’s eyes lingered on the masked figure across from her.

He raised a single gloved finger in the air. 

_“Careful._ That girl is the key to our success and her hope for the boy is _imperative._ You understand?”

Cecilia frowned and looked away as Luca stared at her curiously as he sipped his drink. 

“Be a darling and go check up on her will you?”

Cecilia frowned.

The Count stood up suddenly, his incredible statuesque height always taking her slightly by surprise. He sauntered over to her, his footsteps silent. 

She tensed as he brought a gloved hand slowly against her cheek the leather damp against her skin.

Luca cleared his throat quietly as The Count leaned over the tall woman.

“For me dear Cecilia?”

Her lips parted, that voice puncturing something deep and fragile within her. She hated how easily he was able to melt her into a swamp of malleable putty. 

“Of course,” she stuttered, her breath catching in her throat.

She stood on shaky legs, her heels digging uncomfortably into the soft plush carpet atop the cold granite flooring.

She could feel the stares of the men behind her burning a whole into her back as she exited the large boardroom. 

The Count had a new hobby it would seem. He had always been rather eccentric when it came to certain interests – but this new one. This one bothered Cecilia. More so than any other before. It teetered on the edge of obsession and it _irritated_ her. Why did he spend so much time with this prisoner out of all the others they housed in _Volta Corp?_

Cecilia huffed tucking her caramel waves behind her ears. 

She’d get to the bottom of it. She always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's a real mathematical derivation related to time travel and CTCs are a real thing lol.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve deals with her new situation. Kensington meets an unexpected guest. Desdemona attends a funeral.

**EVE**

That familiar hot unabashed heat emanating from the orange sun bore down upon Eve like meat on an open flame.

Pacioli’s grip on her hadn’t weakened since he had guided her from the church they had arrived in and out onto the ancient cobbled streets of the picturesque city of Valletta. She had heard his name being called earlier as he shoved her from the ruined church they had arrived in only moments ago. Eve recognized it as _Saint John’s Co-Cathedral._ She had a feeling The Count would choose a location such as this one. He adored _Baroque_ architecture and the interior of the church was designed almost exclusively in that style. 

Over the years Eve had done her homework on The Count and she could confidently confirm that there were fifteen locations that he had linked to _Viola Organista._ The church in Valletta was only one of them and Eve knew of a couple more -- a church in Windsor – sacré Coeur in Paris – two in Italy – and Eve believed there to be one in Switzerland and another in Cologne. The others were scattered across other continents, Eve was sure of it. 

Eve could feel the different air enter and leave her lungs as Pacioli swiftly looped his arm in hers before they could exit the church. 

“Behave yourself.”

The warning was clear and Eve brushed her short black and purple tinged bob out of her face as Pacioli tightened his death hold on her as they shuffled through the cobbled stones of Valletta, Malta.

She huffed a humourless laugh as Pacioli all but dragged her by his side.

“For how much longer are you going to continue being his little bitch?”

Several locals gave them second glances as they turned a sharp corner towards a dim alleyway in the bustling city.

“Right now, you’re _my_ little bitch and you’ll _behave.”_

Eve scrambled to her feet after a particularly hard shove from Pacioli sent her clamouring into the rough cobbled stones of the roadway. She ignored the cuts that decorated her knees as she wiped her dusty hands on her pants and glared at Pacioli who was already murmuring into his mobile. It wasn’t that he was particularly tall. It was just that Eve was short. She always had been.

She turned away from the repulsive man in front of her and towards the ocean breeze rippling through the ancient island city. 

Eve saw it almost instantly, the memory resurfacing in her mind like a jolt of lightning as she spotted the humungous yacht docked by the port of the city. The pale blue paint – the white flag – the red and green strips along the sides-

They were there. She could see it. 

Eve’s hair had been long then. Long, thick, unruly and untamed – just like she was as a child. That is what she was then.

A child. 

Eve was frozen as she stared at the little girl near the dock in her ruffled white dress. She seemed sad – faraway – preoccupied with her thoughts. Eve felt her throat constrict as she watched her. 

_So much pain. So much pain will come her way._

It took every fibre of Eve’s being not to rush down there and shield her from what was to come. But Eve knew the rules. She could not disrupt the wormhole in such a way. The repercussions would be catastrophic – not just for her but for the rest of the world. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat she turned her gaze away towards Pacioli who was eyeing her shrewdly. 

He was taunting her with his mocking gaze – his dark brown eyes flickering with an antagonistic glint. He knew the rules as well as anyone else. 

“You looked better with long hair.”

Eve ignored him. She was blinking away the tears from her eyes. She knew why The Count had taken her back to this moment in time. It meant something to her. _He_ knew how much the boy meant to her. It would weaken her down and make it easier for him to control her and she couldn’t let it. She couldn’t let him win.

“The power to change everything hangs in the balance,” Pacioli whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt his hot breath brush her cheek as he took one step closer to her. “How easy it would be to change it now.”

Eve stood still, the moisture in her eyes blurring her vision as the girl in the white dress laughed loudly below as she ran towards someone. 

Eve turned away before she could see the face of the boy whose arms lay wide and open for the girl in the white dress. 

It hurt. It hurt that he was so close. It was taking every morsel of strength in Eve’s petite body not to run back there and feel him -- his warm skin against hers -- his soft lips against her forehead – his soft auburn curls through her fingers…

Pacioli was watching her now. She could feel it from behind. His breathing matching each inhale and exhale of her own. But Eve had the advantage. Pacioli just didn’t know it yet. 

Eve saw an opportunity and she didn’t miss it. 

With an elbow to the gut she retracted her arm quickly. Her timing was impeccable and she heard the howl of pain from the man behind her as she took off at a speed. 

She didn’t care that she was being conspicuous. She just needed to get as far away from The Count as possible, as far away from any member of _Volta Corp_ as soon as possible. 

Eve flew past narrow alleyways trying her best to avoid looping around towards the same spot. Valletta was not a large city by any means. She could not stay here long. She would have to get back to _Viola Organista_ immediately and make it back to London. Back to 2037. Back to Finn. 

She stopped dead in her tracks when saw the crowd in front of her.

She stilled – her heart leaping to her throat as she locked eyes with familiar dark brown irises. 

_Oh no. Please no._

In a flash the girls eyes were back to the man beside her, the remnant of a smile on her lips. 

_Phew. That was a close one._

Eve swallowed uneasily. She knew the rules...and she had just come incredibly close to breaking one of the most sacred ones.

 _“Take it easy Lo,”_ said a much younger painfully familiar voice from behind the other two. 

Eve quickly sidestepped behind an aged crumbling building as the group passed her by without a second glance.

“Finny,” Eve whispered peeping around the corner to watch as a young Phineas bounded up to the two figures in front of him. 

_God he was so young._

Eve trembled as she watched them.

_“Remember what I said about staying together.”_

There was a laugh from the auburn hair coloured boy beside him.

 _“We won’t get lost Finn,”_ said the older boy with a chuckle. _“At least not intentionally.”_

_He was there. He was right there. Only metres away from her._

Eve swallowed the tears in her throat as she watched the boy she had grown up with…the boy she loved stroll casually in front of her.

Untouched.

Untainted.

Unknowing. 

Seeing him triggered something in Eve and quite suddenly she came to a realization. 

The Count had taken her to this moment in time _for a reason._ Sure, he knew what it had meant to her -- what it had meant to Desdemona at the time. But The Count was not sentimental. He had a purpose for every travel he embarked on within _Viola Organista._

Eve heard the soft words of the girl dissipate into an atmosphere of quiet laughter and easy conversations as the evening set it.

Long raven tresses blew in the breeze as the girl in the white dress blinked, her wide brown eyes taking in the ambiance of the foreign city around her. Her small lips were curved in a smile, her dress creasing around her slender thighs as she hurried to keep up with her company.

Eve watched silently, her heart aching with each step further the girl took away from her.

She had been so innocent back then. As naïve and as oblivious as one was at the age of sixteen. 

This was one of her last joyous memories of the three of them together. But this was _not_ the only reason the Count had brought her back here. There was something more in Valletta of 2018 that the Count wanted – _needed._ Eve was sure of it.

Glimpses of her past crept up on her like the darkness of the evening on the setting sky. Flashes of smiles and warmth and pure happiness. Her memories felt stronger -- perhaps because she was _here_ , in the place where everything happened. 

She watched the three figures from her past saunter away into the warm inviting city of Valletta but she did not make her way to the church quite yet. She had something more to uncover. She just hoped she would make it there before The Count did.

“Don’t worry Desdemona,” she whispered. “I’ll save us... both of us.”

***

**KENSINGTON**

Kensington groaned as the pain radiating through her skull intensified. 

“Kensington? _Kensington??”_

Kensington’s eyes snapped open – bright blue eyes meeting dark concerned irises above her. 

“Thank god. Are you okay?”

Kensington pushed herself upwards her hands meeting cold dark granite as she stood shakily on her feet. 

The painting was before her, the expressionless woman and her pet ermine gazing down at the girl innocently, as if the events that had just transpired were a figment of her imagination. 

“Did that…did that really happen?”

Kensington’s voice was hoarse as Beau turned to look at her. He was stricken – she could tell by his demeanour but his relief to be back in the present was slowly overtaking the panic. 

“What the _hell_ did you do? What did you press?”

Now Kensington was the one to look at him in a panic. 

“I-I don’t know! I can’t remember…”

Beau huffed and straightened his dress shirt which was crumpled and sweaty from their previous endeavour. 

“We should leave,” Beau said swiftly, only too happy to open the doors and exit the metal encased contraption. 

Kensington followed him trying her best to settle her wild blue-black tresses which were damp with sweat. 

Beau said nothing to her as she followed him down the hallway towards the elevator that would take them down to the lower levels of the building.

It was a stringent awkward ride down the lift towards the lowest level. When Beau’s destination arrived he avoided eye contact with Kensington entirely and muttered to her quietly. 

“We won’t speak of this again.”

With that he left her alone in the lift as the doors closed in front of her. Kensington released a long exhale as the doors closed and the lift continued downwards towards the floor where her small cubicle was. 

“Just take a deep breath,” she muttered to herself as she stared at her reflection in the stainless steel reflection of the elevator doors.

Her blue eyes were wide, her pupils dilated as her dark lashes fluttered with each blink of her eyes. She tucked her dark hair behind her ears and brought her hands to her cheeks to cool her heated skin.

Kensington couldn’t quite place it – but there was an indisputable feeling of dread pooling in her gut. She wasn’t sure if it was due to what she had done – or the fear of the consequences that were to follow if anyone else was to discover what happened.

As the doors opened Kensington stopped dead in her tracks at the person standing outside the doors.

Kensington didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to open any wider but they did as she stared at the tall intimidating figure in front of her.

She was gaping as the man stepped inside and closed the elevator doors behind him. 

“Kensington Katz.”

His voice was fluid and surprisingly attractive. Husky. Dark. Alluring.

She shuddered as she shrank into the corner of the elevator. She was scared and she wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it. She knew exactly who this was.

Kensington had never seen such an outfit before…it was all so…bizarre. Not a glimpse of his skin could be seen – all of it concealed by clothing be it gloves, boots, scarf – and…that mask. 

Kensington tried not to stare. Although the man was looking straight ahead, Kensington felt as if he were looking at her. She had no doubt he was from the corner of his eye. The fact that she couldn’t tell…that she’d never be able to made her fear peak even more. 

“You’ve been busy today haven’t you?”

His voice held a hint of amusement but Kensington feared there was something darker beneath it. Something he was struggling to contain.

“You…you’re the Count.”

Her voice was a garbled whisper but the man turned his blank expressionless grey mask towards her. 

He ignored her and instead tilted his head to the side as if looking at her for the first time. She hadn’t even noticed that he had pressed the button towards a floor…a floor leading towards the lower level.

She gulped, her palms sweaty as she gripped the metal railing behind her.

“Thank you Miss Katz,” he said softly.

Kensington froze again, her sweat trickling down the back of her neck.

“My busy schedule doesn’t really permit me to meet each intern that comes and goes from _Volta Corp.”_ He paused letting the doors of the lift open gently to lead down a black tiled corridor. One that looked different from the ones on the main level and beyond. “But you’re a special one.”

Kensington just stared, unsure of what the man beside her wanted from her.

“Please do not be afraid,” he purred. “We value all of our employees here. And we reward those who go above and beyond the expectations they are required to meet.”

Kensington swallowed and stood up, smoothing her skirt down. The mask she had stuffed in her pocket peeked out from her pocket and swiftly she scrunched it back into the fabric of her blouse pocket.

She looked up to see if the Count had seen but his head was facing straight ahead.

“Please come with me. I have something rather exciting to share with my newest intern.”

With that he stepped gracefully out of the lift and began walking down the pathway.

Something in the back of Kensington’s mind wanted her to run… but at the same time she felt an insane inexplicable compulsion to follow the man. After all, she was standing next to the CEO of _Volta Corp_ \-- the company with the potential to change the world…the company that _did_ change the world as Kensington knew deep down.

Kensington never thought for a second the man she had admired all her life…the man who was standing in front of her now…beckoning her with few words would eventually become the man she feared in the span of only a couple hours. 

But the future was not set in stone. Kensington knew this. Surely she only saw a version of events that could potentially occur? A single glimpse of a single wormhole in the expanse of the universe.

Putting her mind to rest Kensington exhaled and put on her brave face. She was in the company of one of the most brilliant minds on the planet. She would be damned if she didn’t take advantage of it. 

Swallowing her fear and putting her instincts to rest…she stepped out into the cool corridor and followed the man in the mask down the hallway. 

**DESDEMONA**

The silence was deafening.

Desdemona wanted something—anything to break the still serene environment that surrounded the small congregation around the slick black coffin in front of her.

It shouldn’t have been all that surprising. She had been so ill. But still – Desdemona thought she’d make it. 

She stood a good distance from the dug up earth in front of her -- her baby sister in her arms as the child sucked happily on her pacifier – unaware of the fact that their mother lay in that coffin before them.

She was grateful for the support around her but the truth of what was happening weighed down upon her heavier than anything she’d ever experienced.

Phineas was to her right -- his hands clasped in front of him and his head down. And to her left was her rock – her best friend – Lorenzo. He had his hand in Penelope’s who looked bewildered at what was going on around them. As the oldest – Desdemona was dressed in all black like the adults but her little sister Penelope and her baby sister Ainé both wore white – a testament to their innocence. 

It happened quickly and almost as soon as Desdemona had seen them lowering the coffin – the Earth had slowly been piled on leaving nothing but a rounded hill of Earth and a tall stony cross above it.

The rest of the procession went on slowly and Desdemona said little. She nodded here an again as people came by to hug or her give her soft condolences. Her father hadn’t come. He found funerals a waste of time and preferred to wallow in despair at their home. Desdemona let him. People grieved in their own way and she knew her father was grieving as much as he wouldn’t admit it. He had changed ever since their mother had fallen ill. He had lost that spark in his eye and had become nothing but a shadow of the man he had once been. Desdemona feared that there was not much left for him to hold on to. 

“That was the last of them.”

Desdemona picked her head up as Lorenzo came shuffling towards her. 

He was wearing an all black suit with a skinny black tie and Desdemona looked away as he perched next to her on the stony bench just outside the cemetery walls.

“How are you feeling?”

Desdemona managed a weak smile.

“I’m alright Lorenzo. Thanks…thanks for being here and looking after the others.”

“Of course,” he murmured perching his hand on hers. “I’ll always be here for you Desdemona.”

The fact that he used her full name and not a nickname made her emotions surge and Desdemona swallowed the lump in her throat. 

He had combed his auburn locks carefully so the stubborn waves were somewhat pressed down against his scalp. He looked more mature this way and Desdemona in this moment decided that she liked it better when it was unruly and curled loosely around his forehead. 

Before she could comment on it she felt another presence approach her from the right.

Finn hesitated before he spoke and by the look of his blushed cheeks and red rimmed eyes Desdemona could tell he had been crying. 

Hell. Even she managed to keep it together.

“Hey,” he said softly clearly uncomfortable at the closeness between herself and Lorenzo.

“Hey,” she murmured as he perched across from them on one of the large boulders that surrounded the perimeter of the cemetery.

“You must be kind of sick of people giving their condolences hey?”

Desdemona gave him a wry smile.

“They mean well. But I’m definitely tired of saying thank you.”

Lorenzo murmured in agreement at the comment.

Finn looked away awkwardly as the three of them sat in silence – staring at anything but each other.

Desdemona sighed in relief when she saw her brother waving at her in the distance. Pax was fourteen – only two years her junior and she was lucky he matured quickly. He knew how to handle things when she was away. 

“My parents will drop off all the food and gifts at your place,” Finn murmured standing up. 

Desdemona smiled and went in to give him a hug. 

He didn’t seem to expect it and she felt him go rigid at first before he slowly wrapped his arms around her too.

“Thank you Finny,” she murmured as her cheek brushed his. 

“Anything you need,” he said with weak smile. 

“I’ll take her home,” the grittiness of the voice behind her made her blush and she watched as Finny shrugged and looked away. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Desdemona watched as he shuffled towards the large limousine himself and his parents had arrived in.

Lorenzo had draped his arm around her shoulders and began the short trek back to her house.

By the time they made it to her door Desdemona could feel the beginnings of dread begin to creep into her stomach. It was going to be a rough night – she could already tell.

Lorenzo hesitated at the door. He seemed to want to say more, thought better of it then eventually looked away. 

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked severely looking deep into her eyes. Desdemona’s large brown eyes met his and she exhaled slowly. “The first and second nights are always the most brutal. It eases a little bit after that.”

“I’ll be okay. As long I can still come over and help your grandmother tomorrow.”

Lorenzo smiled. 

“Of course. She loves you D. You’re welcome anytime.”

With that he pulled her into a hug and Desdemona squeezed her eyes shut at the warm embrace. He smelled so good – like fresh bread, warm stoves, and something that was purely Lorenzo. It was her favourite scent in the world. 

“Stay strong D,” he murmured against her ear as she breathed in his scent one last time.

“I will,” she whispered letting the soft breeze surround the two of them. She had her best friend by her side. At that moment she could take on whatever the world decided to throw at her.


End file.
